Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Fallon
While the security guy, Everett, goes around the house, I distract myself by playing with Bruiser. After growling for a bit at some unseen animal or something outside, he’s settled into a game of shaking a rope toy around like it’s prey, and then…falling over.
The awful ache I’ve had in my stomach since leaving class today has only gotten worse. It’s a stone boulder sitting in my stomach. I’m still reeling from the revelation that the first person I’ve been with in years, someone I was falling for, is a student.
It never even occurred to me to ask. He told me he was twenty-four. Most of my students are no older than nineteen, maybe twenty, and that’s if they took a gap year.
The pain is all the more acute as I hover above Bruiser with the walking sling I bought him.
A week ago, I took him to a physical therapist who had some suggestions for helping the growing puppy improve his balance.
It’s good, having him to take care of. If only taking care of Bruiser wasn’t inextricably linked with PJ.
PJ wasn’t only someone I trusted, he was someone I enjoyed being with, having sex with. Someone who helped me draw boundaries around my family and my personal life. Someone who knew exactly how to dominate me in bed.
He was nothing like Marina. In a way, he was better. He knew how to give me exactly what I needed.
I’ve never truly had anyone to take care of me the way he did.
While I was so resistant to him bringing Bruiser to me, PJ was right about this too. Having a puppy, one that needs a bit of extra attention, has been good for me.
It’s pushed me out of my comfort zone, it’s forced me to create a better routine for myself, aside from getting up already exhausted, having coffee, exercising, and then wandering around my house in a towel all morning because I’m used to someone else assigning importance to tasks for me.
I feed Bruiser, so I feed myself. We both get fresh air. Taking care of Bruiser has forced me to take care of both of us. Somehow, PJ knew.
The creaking bottom step saves me from feeling sorry for myself. I look up to find a handsome Black man wearing an anime T-shirt. He seemed friendly but distant when he arrived, laying out his recommendations and quickly getting to work.
Now, however, he looks grim.
“Everything okay?”
Bruiser, who has been walking better lately, scampers to sniff his new friend. He topples onto his side when he reaches Everett’s feet.
I grab his favorite treat and settle him in one of his beds so I can concentrate on whatever it is this security expert has to say. The look on his face seems like one I don’t want to see when someone’s supposed to be installing cameras and an alarm.
“You want the good news or the bad news first?”
Jesus, what? “Bad news.” It’s already been the shittiest of shit days. How much worse can it be? He’s probably going to tell me he has to charge me more because of some incompatibility with his devices or something. Whatever it is, I can handle it.
Everett makes his way to the breakfast bar and holds out a hand, dropping a handful of small objects. They look like, I don’t know, bottle caps or something? No. Batteries. The ones that are about the size of a coin. No, they’re not the right color. And some are smaller, more like a pencil eraser.
Everett then proceeds to open my cabinets until he’s found a drinking glass, fills it with water, and then drops them all inside.
“What are these?”
“These are the cameras and microphones I found when I was installing the contact sensors on your windows.” I try to think through what he’s saying, but my brain is filled with static.
“I don’t understand,” I manage. Only I think I do.
There’s a cold feeling creeping into my body. Starting at my fingertips and jabbing inward. Icicles.
Everett takes a very long and very deep breath. “They’re Bluetooth-enabled, so I’ll have to see if I can find the device that’s capturing the data. Shouldn’t be too difficult, since whatever it is more than likely is using your WI-FI. Do you know if you kept the default password on your router?”
I shrug helplessly; his words barely make sense inside my brain. “I don’t—my wife called a guy, I think. I don’t remember.”
It’s one of those things that was so long ago, there’s a blank space when I try to picture what would have happened. I don’t use the Internet at home too often anyway, so I’ve never given it much thought.
“It’s hard to say for sure until I check the serial numbers, but I don’t think these are the latest model. They may have been here for a while. Do you know anyone who would’ve had the kind of access to do this?”
“N-no.” I think of the people who have been here. Since Marina died, it’s a very short list. While many minor repairs and issues needed to be taken care of around the house, they haven’t been a priority. Wes, for all his faults, would never do something like this.
Before, though? Marina loved having people over.
Loved afternoon barbecues and cocktail parties.
Loved hosting dinners and even other occasional, more intimate get-togethers.
My face heats, thinking of the party where she decided to share me with her best friend and her husband.
Is there any chance Marina would have set them up? To record things?
“Where did you find them?”
“One in each bedroom,” Everett tells me. “And one over there.” He gestures toward the living room area. “Behind the television. Or beside it, sort of. Blended right in with the streaming device.”
Which was the room we were in the last time Marina’s friends were over. Still, I can’t get my head around the idea that she would do something like this. At least not without telling me. She loved games, and she would have enjoyed my embarrassment.
She didn’t tell you about those cards she received.
What else didn’t she tell me? Is this something she would have done?
I don’t know how to make sense of this. I don’t know.
“Is there…” Dammit, why is it so cold in here? “Is there any way for you to tell who did this?”
He shrugs. “Not likely, but if I can find where the footage is being sent, I might be able to hack in and retrieve it. There’s always a chance the person setting them up was stupid enough to get in front of the camera.
I’ll see what other information I can get.
Might take me some time.” Which I take to mean that it will cost extra money.
“Please. I-I need to know who the fuck would do this.”
Who even could?
Those cards, the mysteriously appearing greeting cards that are still living in the drawer with the takeout menus, flash into my head. It couldn’t be the same person, could it?
Of course it could. You know who did this.
I don’t, though. I don’t know at all. It has all the markers of the sort of twisted mind games Marina’s brother would have played. An old memory floats up about a time that Marina called me, sobbing and furious, because she’d found out her brother had cameras in her bedroom.
He’d posted the videos on a revenge porn site.
Fuck.
The icicles in my body dig deeper, and I’m dimly aware of Bruiser licking happily at his treat, which is good because I don’t have the bandwidth to play with him anymore. Not… No. I can’t even think clearly.
Has someone seen me with PJ? With Marina? Tossing and turning alone at night, enjoying my pain?
“I don’t know what to say.” Because it’s the one thing I know for sure right now.
I wish PJ were here. He always seems to know what I need.
“It’s understandable,” Everett says carefully. “This is some invasive shit. Like I said, I’ll see what I can find out. The good news is your new system is up and running.”
Oh right. Good news, bad news. I almost laugh.
He slides a piece of paper across the kitchen counter.
“This has all the information you need. The app to download, how to access the new doorbell camera, and the motion sensor cameras that I put around the outside of the house. I installed contact sensors on the windows, so if anybody opens one, you’ll get an alert.
” He clears his throat and scrawls some more information on the paper.
“I also took the liberty of installing a couple of my own cameras in your bedroom facing the hall and one over by the TV, in case whoever planted the original ones gets in again somehow.” He nods to the glass of water.
“Thank you. Just tell me what I owe you.”
He nods, writing more on the paper. “Sure. Full disclosure, I have the video feed going to a cloud server I have access to, but I’m putting the information down here so you can reset the password.
I won’t be able to look at anything unless you call me and tell me you want me to, at which point you’ll need to give me the password and security PIN.
So you know, I will never call you to ask for that information.
But if something does come up and you want my help looking into it, let me know.
Lotta corruption in the local PD, but I’ve got a contact I trust, as well as the FBI. ”
“FBI?” My lips and tongue feel thick. It’s as if I’m stuck in quicksand, and it’s too hard to move.
“Comes in handy more often than you might think. I’ll be in touch.” He packs up his stuff into what appears to be one of those coolers people take food to the beach in, and then he leaves.
I wander the house in stunned silence. Who in God’s name has been watching me? And why? I’m sure I should be upset, angry, violated even, but I can’t seem to feel anything. Everything’s hazy and cold, the way I felt after I got the news about Marina.
I can’t handle this. I don’t want to let the numbness return. It took me months to climb out from under it before.
My hand is shaking as I pull out my phone. I’m making a mistake. I know I am. I can’t help it.
I send the text anyway.
Fallon: Can you please come over? I need you.